One of Us is Gonna Die Young
by bitterending
Summary: [DH SPOILERS] George was the one who found him.


Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me.  
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George was the one who found him. He had been nearly outside when it happened. He had felt it—a loss of some sort—like the bottom of his stomach dropping out. Without thinking he turned around and ran back, unsure of where he was going, simply following a deep-seated instinct he wasn't aware he possessed. Keep running. Turn left. Up the stairs. Keep running. He knew. Deep down, he _knew _what he'd find when he reached his destination, and yet he still felt the cold shock envelope his entire being when he reached the nook that his brother had been carefully placed in. "No." George heard himself whisper, his voice hoarse, "No, God, no, I'm dreaming. Please…this can't be happening."

He hadn't realized that he had fallen to his knees until he was crawling over to his brother, crouching beside him helplessly as tears clouded his vision. "Fred?" His voice was weak and hopeless in his throat, but it didn't matter. He didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore. "Fred…please don't do this…please, you _can't _be dead…You can't—_Please_, Fred…please…"

His chest was getting too tight in his effort to keep from crying. It was difficult to breathe, and tears were still escaping rapidly from his eyes. On impulse, he reached over and pulled his twin's limp body into his lap, cradling it gently against his chest. "God, I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…I should've been—should've been there. I should've—should've told you...I—I never said…" George was barely aware of the fact that he was speaking aloud. His mind was numbing everything. If he tried to process everything at once, it would be too much. It was already too much.

The tightness in his chest finally became unbearable and he began to sob into his brother's hair. "Fred…Fred…" It became all he could say, and he couldn't say it enough. His twin. His other half. This couldn't be happening. Fred would never do this to him. He couldn't. "Fred…no…_Fred_…"

Desperately, George clung to his brother's hands, rubbing them gently in a helpless attempt to warm life back into them, but Fred's unnaturally cold skin was stubbornly remaining so—instead chilling George's hands as they fell still. George felt his grief choking him, tears falling onto his brother's motionless face. There was a silence that surrounded them. All the noise from the battle outside seemed to have disappeared.

And then suddenly, it was broken. "WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?" George screamed, roughly shaking his brother's body, "WHAT CAN I DO _NOW?_ HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO—" he cut himself off abruptly, his ability to speak suddenly sapped from his throat. Fred dropped from his grip and slumped onto the floor, and all at once it seemed to smash into him. Fred was gone. He wasn't going to wake up. He was dead.

George felt his heart shuddering in his chest, as if it was willing to stop, too. Why shouldn't it? Why did he disserve life when his brother didn't? How could he keep going without Fred standing beside him? George felt his lungs turn to stone. He couldn't move. He tried to take a breath, but his mind was unable to perform the simplest action. He doubted he was even blinking. Time seemed to stop and go at twice the speed all at once.

"George? George, Jesus Christ, please say something. Blink if you can hear me, George." George heard the voice, but he couldn't react. He heard his name, but he couldn't understand what the voice was telling him to do. "George…George, please…I can't loose both of you. Not like this…" George suddenly felt hands on his shoulders. "George, I'm so sorry. I'm so— so sorry, but we can't stay here." The voice was stifled with tears, but George couldn't focus his eyes to see the face in front of him. "We have to _move_, George." Everything went black.

George wasn't aware of coming to. He hadn't even realized he fainted. Maybe he hadn't, because by the time he realized he could see again, he was kneeling at the head of his brother, staring into his eyes, which someone—who, he couldn't guess—had the decency to close. He heard sobbing. Was it him? No. The sound was too feminine. His mother. When did she get here? How long had she known? The questions passed through George's mind, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It didn't matter. None of it did.

It took a moment for George to realize that he could move again. His fingers reached out and brushed Fred's cheek, but he recoiled hastily, still unprepared for the freezing skin that met his touch. "Oh, George…" he heard the whisper of someone who had noticed his movement. "I'm so sorry." He didn't stir to acknowledge whoever spoke, and whoever it was fell silent.

Without thinking, George gently placed his hand on his brother's chest, feeling for the faintest beat against his palm. Silence. Stillness. Nothing. Reflexively, George's fingers clenched in the shirt as his forehead fell against his brother's. "George…" He recognized the voice now. It was the voice he heard earlier. Percy. George suddenly felt his blood boil in his veins. He had no right…he wasn't even a part of this _family_ anymore.

"George…"

"GODDAMNIT!" George suddenly spun around and slammed his fist into his older brother's jaw. Someone screamed. Ginny, his mother, someone else entirely. It didn't matter. He attacked him, throwing punches blindly against his brother's body "GOD_DAMN_IT! SHUT UP! I'LL _KILL_ YOU!" The tears distorted his vision again and the sobs constricted his throat. He couldn't see. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. The anger was so fierce it felt surreal.

"IF I KNEW FORGIVING YOU MEANT LOSING HIM, I WOULD'VE _KILLED_ YOU!" he howled, as he felt arms snatch around his waist, struggling to pull him away. They were strong, but not much more than himself, and George was able to twist free enough to kick wildly at Percy's face. "I NEVER EVEN _WANTED_ YOU BACK!"

Silence suddenly seemed to swallow the entire Great Hall, and for a long moment, everything froze. George could feel thousands of eyes on him, but he didn't care. He wanted the whole world to know. The arms around George went slack with shock, and George fell heavily onto Percy's chest, the sobs wracking so intensely through his body that he could no longer bother to move. He felt Percy's steady breathing underneath him and a fresh wave of resentment shot down his spine. "Why—why couldn't it have been _you?_"

He heard his father's angry, tearful voice behind him, "_George Fabian Weasley! _How _dare_ you!" He felt a hand grip roughly in the back of his shirt and tried to yank him off of Percy, but another pair of hands was suddenly at his shoulders, holding him still. The hand at his back relaxed and fell away, leaving him staring blearily at his older brother—his face bloodied and streaked with tears.

"George…I know. I'm so sorry. I don't think you'll ever understand how sorry—"

"STOP IT! DON'T TELL ME THAT! YOU—"

"I'm not telling you not to blame me, George. I'm not asking you to forgive me, either."

"Good." George said weakly, his eyes on the bruised knuckles resting in his lap. But as he spoke, the anger melted away. Within seconds, it was gone, as if it was never there, and all that was left was the crushing misery in his chest. He swallowed thickly in an attempt to calm himself, but the loud sobs burst from his mouth before he could regain control.

"I hate you." He wailed, his head dropping listlessly against Percy's shoulder, "I hate you, I hate you, I _hate_ you!" He knew he was becoming harder to understand as tears started to strangle him again, but he couldn't suppress the words from his mouth. "I'll never forgive you this, Percy…you killed us both— you killed—" George suddenly felt arms around him, pulling him into Percy's chest. Desperate, George grabbed fistfuls of his brother's sweater; curling into his lap with haunting sobs that chilled the blood under Percy's skin.

Around them, the rest began to carry on, returning to search for injured and dead or tending to the deceased around them. Once they figured the spectacle was over, they avoided looking at it, feeling guilty for intruding. Even the remaining Weasleys turned away. But Percy remained, holding tightly onto his brother's bitter forgiveness as George wept for his own.

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A/N: I know you guys hear this from me all the time, but I freaking HATE this ending. Oh well. It's the first Fred-is-indeed-quite-dead-all-the-way-through story that I finished, so it's still something to be proud of. And after complaining (earlier today, in fact!) that I was so unable to finish these kind of stories! ...I kind of wish I'd have stayed right. :/ Oh well.


End file.
